What is the Heart?
by Apple Doodle
Summary: Ulquiorra is abused by Aizen, and Grimmjow couln't care less. but in the brutal world of Hueco Mundo, they'll need to rely on each other to survive.
1. Heart

**What is the heart?**

**Chapter 1:**

**Heartless**

_'I stand alone in the rain,_

_Imagining myself in someone's embrace._

_How I long for the warm touch of a hand against my heart,_

_Another soul intertwined with my own._

_I long for the gentle brush of lips against mine,_

_Or some softly spoken words of comfort to soothe me of my pain._

_I long for someone kind and gentle to hold me in their arms,_

_Or to be locked in a passionate eternal kiss whose fires set the world alight._

_But I stand alone in the rain,_

_Longing to be loved.'_

Ulquiorra

Ulquiorra awoke in a cold sweat, breathless and alert. It had been years since he had last dreamed; years since he threw away his emotions to destroy the last traces of his humanity. For Ulquiorra, sleep had become merely a time to rest one's physical body, nothing more. He did not have dreams.

And yet tonight, he had.

He had dreamed he was human, in the world of the living, feeling emotions that were so vivid and new and confusing, that his heart almost burst… Ulquiorra shook his head. These so called emotions were not real. He did not feel anything, for he had no heart to feel with. He was a hollow. Being heartless was in his nature.

Yet a heart is needed, in order to dream.

*****

"You called for me, Aizen-sama?" Ulquiorra stood in the doorway of the Los Noches throne room, awaiting commands from his master.

"Yes, my dear cuatro espada." Aizen paused, and frowned.

"You seem a little strange today, Ulquiorra. Is there something bothering you? Is there a question you wish to ask your lord?"

"Yes, Aizen-sama. I have a question," Ulquiorra said, emotionlessly.

"Go on."

"What is the heart?"

"Ah," remarked Aizen, thoughtfully. "I would have thought you might have known this, Ulquiorra. The heart is a circulatory organ, which is essential to the human body. It also happens to be the place where the chain of fate is attached, which is why most hollows have their holes in their chest, because that's where they're hearts used to be. Because of this, the heart has become something sentimental to both humans and shinigami, and they use the word 'heart' to represent where their emotions come from."

"So, the heart is a good thing, then?" asked Ulquiorra, in his blank, almost monotone voice.

"Humans and shinigami believe so, yes. They believe so because the 'heart' is the source of emotions such as happiness and so called love. However, they are wrong. The heart is the source of much pain and suffering. That, actually, is why I summoned you, Ulquiorra. I summoned you in order to prove this point to my dear friend Gin, here. You see, he still foolishly believes that the heart is a good thing."

Ulquiorra turned his head slightly to look at Gin, who was sitting to Aizen's left. Ichimaru Gin shrugged, the sinisterly wide smile he always wore never once leaving his face.

"I guess I just don' think it'd be any fun without emotions, 's all," grinned Gin. Ulquiorra wondered how he could possibly have a different opinion to Aizen-sama, and stay smiling.

"So, Ulquiorra," said Aizen. "This is where you come in. You perfectly fit the description of heartless, in both senses of the word. That is why I need you to help me with this. Besides, this should help take up some of this disastrously boring free time I have nowadays. So, are you willing to help me?"

"Of course, Aizen-sama."

"Good. Then lets begin." Aizen stepped down off his throne-like chair and strode across the room towards Ulquiorra, a shiny silver knife in his hand.

Slowly, Aizen reached up with the knife and made a small cut across Ulquiorra's cheek, deep enough to cause a flow of blood to stain his face, but not enough even to make him flinch.

"Ulquiorra, could you please describe how that feels," Aizen said, refraining from grinning in order to remain serious.

"It is very mild physical pain, Aizen-sama."

"Very good, Ulquiorra. Now could you please describe how it feels when I say 'nobody loves you'?"

"I feel nothing, Aizen-sama, for they are merely words.

"Good. So far the results of this experiment are going exactly as I predicted." Aizen raised his knife once again. "Now, shall we proceed? Ulquiorra, please remove your shirt."

Ulquiorra did as he was told, removing the top half of his white robes to reveal his flawless, chalky white chest. Aizen slashed down with the knife, spoiling that perfect white torso with a flow of scarlet. He had made a slash going from Ulquiorra's left shoulder going diagonally across his chest, and although the wound was shallow and not life threatening, blood poured out freely, causing the white world of Los Noches to be splayed with red.

White floor.

White walls.

White robes.

White body.

Crimson blood.

*****

An hour or so later, Ulquiorra stumbled out of the Los Noches throne room, beaten and covered in blood. Over the past 60 agonising minutes, Aizen had proceeded with this so-called experiment, and had begun to torture Ulquiorra, both physically and emotionally, in as many ways as possible. This was simply his fun new game. But now Ulquiorra was free to go. Until the next time, that was. For the mighty and powerful cuatro Espada was simply Aizen's pet. His little toy. And everyone in Hueco Mundo knew it.

"What the hell happened to you?" sneered a familiar voice. Grimjow Jagerjaques, the sixth Espada stood above Ulquiorra, clearly amused at the sight of his fellow arrancar in pain. "What in the world did you do to get punished like that? I mean, you're Aizen's little pet, aren't you? You always follow orders to the letter."

"This was not a punishment," coughed Ulquiorra. Although his voice was strained and weak with pain, it still remained void of any emotion. "It is the result of an experiment. Aizen-sama merely wished to test something. Something to do with the heart."

"Well, whatever. I just didn't figure you to be the type that just stands around letting himself be tortured."

"It's not torture, it's…" But the sixth Espada had already turned his back on Ulquiorra and was walking away, leaving the emerald-eyed arrancar lying alone in the white corridor.

* * *

**Yay! I wrote something serious for once! I think I'm going to write a poem at the beginning of every chapter... anyway, I've already started chapter 2, so hopefully it won't take too long. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	2. Game

**Chapter 2:**

**Game**

_'The world is my plaything;_

_Civilisation is like putty in my hands._

_People are like dolls;_

_They're fun to break.'_

Aizen

Ulquiorra somehow managed to drag his bruised and battered body back to his own quarters. Only then did he attempt high-speed regeneration. Luckily, no serious internal injury had been inflicted, and so after only a few minutes he was perfectly healed. Physically, he was once again flawless. Mentally, he had had no emotions to be scarred in the first place.

The cuatro Espada sighed, and lay down on his bed. Something was worrying him, but it wasn't what Aizen had said or done to him. It was what Grimmjow had said afterwards. Was what Aizen had done to him, and would do in the near future, really torture? It was purely scientific, right? His master was only doing these things to him in order to find something out.

But Ulquiorra was unsatisfied with the answer he'd provided himself. He was unsatisfied, because somewhere, in the deepest reaches of his mind, he felt the tiniest flicker of doubt towards Aizen's motives. Not to Aizen himself, of course. No, Ulquiorra could never doubt his master. But as to why he'd done those things, why he'd hurt him so, Ulquiorra knew it was not just purely down to curiosity. There was something more. Something more sinister.

And then he knew. Aizen had even said it himself. '_This should help take up some of this disastrously boring free time I have nowadays' _he'd said. Aizen was bored, and this was all just a little game to him. His master _enjoyed_ hurting him.

Ulquiorra shook himself. Who was he to question Aizen-sama's motives? What did it matter why his master did things, if the result was all that mattered? Besides, fun was a concept Ulquiorra had no experience or knowledge of, so who was he to judge?

His train of thought was interrupted, however, when there came a loud knocking at the door.

"Oi, Ulquiorra," came the muffled sound of Grimmjow's voice from the other side of the door. "You in there?"

"What is it, trash?" asked Ulquiorra, stepping out of his room.

"Aizen wants you again… And I am _not_ trash," replied Grimmjow, before storming off.

Ulquiorra was surprised. Aizen wanted him again already? How long had he been lost in thought? A while, probably. No matter. He sighed, and prepared himself for the long, torturous hour ahead.

*****

An hour and a half later, Ulquiorra found himself once again stumbling into his room, covered in blood. He just managed a high-speed regeneration, wincing at the pain of restoring his broken body, before flopping down onto his bed and instantly passing out with exhaustion.

He happily embraced dark void of a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**Hi again! Sorry this chapter is so short, but even though i'm kind of busy with my other stories at the moment, I wanted to update something for this so I did. I'm not really sure where this one's going, or what's going to happen at the end (I did have it all planned out when I first started writing chapter 1, but i've completely forgotted. Silly me.) so feel free to suggest any ideas you may have. The only thing I know for certain, is I want to have a bit more Grimmjow in the next chapter, because I love that little kitty!**

**Anyway, all feedback is very welcome, so PLEASE REVIEW!!!**


	3. Breakdown

**Chapter 3:**

**Breakdown**

'I am destruction;

The force that reduces all to dust.

Soon, those above me will be devoured by my hunger.

I will not give up in my quest to be king.

Until then, I rain a twisted fury upon those weaklings beneath me.

I will set alight the world, just to see it burn.

I break things,

Because I can.'

Grimmjow

The days all blurred into one – they always had done, seeing as it was always night in Hueco Mundo. The only way anyone kept time was by their daily activities, keeping busy in order to stay in touch with reality. Keeping busy, however, becomes rather difficult when one has no schedule, no agenda, and no surviving fraccion to keep track of. Staying busy, and keeping time, were not things Grimmjow Jagerjaques was good at. Grimmjow was like a stray animal; he ate when he liked, slept when he liked, and broke things when he liked. But in a world where there was one rule, 'follow Aizen's orders – or die', he found a lack of routine still left him with no freedom. And he hated it.

Grimmjow wasn't a stray; he was caged. He was a caged beast that just wanted to fly.

But recently, Grimmjow had found himself slipping into a routine of sorts – and even worse, it was centred around that damned Ulquiorra. Grimmjow would get up in the morning – or evening; he didn't really know – eat something, and then walk down to his favourite corner of Los Noches, where somebody, usually Gin, would be waiting. The order was always the same: go bring Ulquiorra to the throne room. Grudgingly, he always obliged.

Outside the throne-room, however, even when his job was done, Grimmjow would stand with his back against the wall and listen. He listened to the terrible sounds radiating from within – the sound of metal tearing through skin, then flesh, then bone. Hour after hour, Grimmjow would listen to the sound of his fellow Espada gasping in pain, and the Sexta would just grin sadistically. He hated the Ulquiorra to the bottom of his heart… he just couldn't figure out why.

Suddenly, the cuatro Espada himself came stumbling through the door, so bloody and battered he could barely support his own weight. How disgraceful. Grimmjow would have spat on him, were it not for a strange feeling in his gut telling him to _help_ the crumpled form before him; the man he so despised. Che, help Ulquiorra? The perfect little porcelain number four? Why should _he_ help the man who constantly looked down on him from his righteous seat up near the top as Aizen's little pet?

_No_, he thought. _I will not help that… that…_ trash. _Yes, Ulquiorra is the very trash that he accuses_ me _of being_.

And with that, Grimmjow turned his eyes away from the cuatro Espada, whose blood stained the white walls of Los Noches crimson. He did not spit, as he had originally intended – no, trash wasn't worth spit – and instead turned to leave. Today, he would simply walk away.

He'd done a lot of that lately.


End file.
